Seriously. I have dozens of stories from my day job as a big-time,
grown-up Hollywood screenwriter - all of them field-tested and honed and
embellished to perfection. Okay, not dozens. Nine. I have nine stories.
But that's more than you have, you asshole. For example, I have my
Richard Pryor story. Years ago, I wrote a comedy starring Mr. Pryor.
What was it called? It doesn't matter. It wasn't Stir Crazy, okay? It
was one of the shitty ones he made later, after he started to shrivel
up, when nobody could bear watching him. Timing is everything in this
business.

Anyway, before they started filming, we had a read-through of the
script. I flew out to LA. The whole cast sat around a big conference
table.

At some point in the script there was a scene where one of the
characters - a senile old lady - takes a crap in the backyard.
Shamelessly, in broad daylight. Like a dog. Oh my friends, it would
have been a classic sequence; students of American comedy would have
been dissecting it for years to come.

But Mr. Pryor felt that scene didn't work. I respectfully disagreed. We
went back and forth. He wanted it out. I thought it should stay.

Finally, the Director turned to Pryor and said, "Richard, is this
something you feel strongly about?" And this is what Pryor did: he
reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun! A real gun. A derringer -
with two short barrels. I'd never seen one before but I could tell it
was definitely real. I was so scared I almost blacked out.

Pryor put the derringer on the table - thunk - and stared at me, sort of
defiantly. It was like a saloon scene in a bad western. Everyone gasped
and laughed nervously. Nobody said anything for about five seconds. Then
I playfully ripped the page out of the script, indicating "Heh, heh,
okay Richard, you win!" Everyone tittered nervously some more. Finally,
Mr. Pryor put the gun away and the read-through continued.

We never saw the gun again. Now here comes what I think is the really
weird part: nobody ever mentioned it. Not then. Not for the rest of the
meeting. Although, as I recall, everyone laughed at Mr. Pryor's lines a
little louder from that point on.

Here's what I was thinking: "What sort of pathetic, self-hating,
paranoid junkie would bring a gun to a script read-through? I'm glad I
don't have to direct him - I'd be afraid to ask for a second take!"